


Punk Revolution

by shy__violet



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, Punk!John, Sherlock in Heels, Shoes, Undercover, punk!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy__violet/pseuds/shy__violet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prompt fill for Sherlock In Heels, who asked for some help coping with their reactions to some rather unusual footwear.  John and Sherlock go undercover at a punk club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punk Revolution

John steered him into a darkened alcove, punk music buzzing through the dingy club—Sherlock could feel it pulsing through the brickwork as he was shoved back against the wall.

“We can’t,” the detective made a token protest. “The case—”

“Will wait. You already said our man wasn’t here,” John nipped at his lower lip, insistent, refusing to brook an argument from the man he was pinning to the wall. “So why not have—a little—fun?” Each phrase was punctuated with a bite along Sherlock’s jaw.

Steady doctor’s hands slid up his sides from slim hips, thumbs tugging at the laces on his waistband as they went.

“Do you have any idea what the sight of you in those bloody shoes has been doing to me all night?”

Sherlock’s answering smile was slow and wicked as John’s mouth found his neck--as perfect white teeth sank, feral, in to perfect white flesh--the bass rumble of his moan swallowed by the din of the club. John leaned into Sherlock, continuing to bear the taller man against the wall while his own hands maintained their upward slide, coming to rest on those broad shoulders. Slowly—or perhaps it just seemed slow because John was absolutely owning his neck at the moment with lips and teeth and tongue—those steady, broad hands pushed the black leather jacket from Sherlock’s shoulders, letting it fall in a tarry puddle to the floor.

John’s ministrations stopped as he stilled, watching Sherlock’s jacket make the slide from shoulder to concrete. Dragging his gaze upward once more, he took in every inch of Sherlock’s legs. The view began innocently, a pair of seemingly non-descript Converse. As his eyes traveled up and up and up the shoes didn’t stop, laces crisscrossing over shin and knee and thigh, the line between footwear and trousers blurring where the laces tied off at the detective’s waist. John bit his lip.

“God, it’s like seeing you wrapped hip to ankle in a fucking corset, love.” 

Sherlock felt John’s thigh insinuating itself between his legs, felt the tug at his waist as John’s fingers began plucking at the laces of his shoes-cum-pants. All he could do while John tugged them loose, greedy hands pushing inside to touch heated, sweat-slick flesh, was moan and let his own fingers tangle in John’s spiked hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Original fill can be found at http://sherlock-in-heels.tumblr.com/post/25740256915/punk-revolution .


End file.
